life?

I haven’t been listening to music as much lately. Well, not when I’m sitting in front of my computer. I forgot about silence for a little bit. I like hearing my own pure thoughts. The days continue to trap me in this thick Texas heat. I want to paint, but I guess not badly enough, or I would paint. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I do with my time. I wonder this and soon after realize that I spend my time writing about wondering what I do with my time. Cycles. That’s life. Has my generation age embedded me with a dependency on technology? One might even call it an addiction. I’m more addicted to the computer and Internet than I am any other physical substance. I would like to say I don’t need it, but I check it every day. I think a lot about what other people live for. What do those people sitting on the bench waiting for the bus think of all this? And do they tell anyone? Does anyone know what I think this all means? I’m not sure if I even have that figured out.

lack of warmth in funerals

We've sat together since the first day of class. Partners. Strangers. Completely separate lives until a week ago. Now we share 600 minutes of every week sitting next to each other. Solving problems. Numerical, logical, distant problems. Both completely ignorant to the life problems unconsciously controlling the other's individual mind.

Every human has a temperature of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit in their normal state. So why is it so surprising when I feel just the slightest warmth of another person? Knuckles touching knuckles. Strangers seem more or less like objects around me, and I expect objects to be cooler to the touch. Now I'm reminded of the cold touch of a living object after the fact. Beyond cold. A state. A cold and very strange state. Almost irrational. And I can feel this strangeness without touching the dead. Open caskets suffocate my heart. The expression of lost life dries my mouth. I hate funerals. Who likes them? I have a really hard time with them. The shortness of breath and watery eyes. Pain creeping around the room, weaving in and out through the mourners. A smog of sympathy, loss, and heartbreak looms over the black attired crowd. The air's as stale as the body.

jumping in to cold water

Mornings of cold water jumping shock me into the deep breath of the day. Swimming against the cool force of the current washes my mind to banks unpolluted with worry. I like the ironic calm I feel as I stare into the interweaving waters. In this moment of my life, I see my existence differently. I consciously understand that I am on this earth merely existing like so many others. And I become intrigued. I become fascinated. With all of it, all of the minuscule details that come together and define everything I know, everything I don't know.

I can't fight my urge to stare. At everyone. I want to know the lines on your face. I want to know how you pick up objects to investigate and the faces you make within that investigation. I want to know the experiences that sculpted you into your daily routine or chaos, whatever the case may be. I love to watch people live. But I also like to live. I like to live outside, and report back to the in.

Here I am. In my bed debating whether I should get up for a swim or remain in the dream world. Lately getting out has been winning. I rarely experience the town in the early morning, and have found it an amiable place. Today I'm really enjoying it. I met up with my friend Andrew, who's one of my favorite people right now. With him, a stranger. Casper. Casper interests me. Different life styles always intrigue me. He has one I would never take up, but I enjoy listening to his details. DMT. He swears by it, life altering, though he says changing. For the better, they both assure me. They recollect the visions they experienced within the five to twenty minute periods of their trips. Sounds much like salvia, though they guarantee it's better. Casper does hallucinogens on a regular basis. Crazy kid. Constant conscious dreaming, seems mentally exhausting.

It's a funny world. With all of these funny people. All of these funny people searching for funny things. I've started trying to look at my life more from outside of me. As if I were just watching a movie. I'm the protagonist, and it seems easier to dream up goals and destinations for myself when it's my movie instead of my life. Everyone knows a good movie when they watch one, so I know I have to make changes when this plot of mine hits a plateau. I can't just walk out on this one.